


when it all comes down

by lodessa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Bittersweet, Emotionally Repressed, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unresolved Emotional Tension, a/b/o au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 08:38:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20239948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lodessa/pseuds/lodessa
Summary: In this modified a/b/o setting, the Targaryen Madness is linked to their all being enkagon (omegas) who frequently struggle with the conflict between their pride and lust for power and their need to be satisfied by an ademmagon (alpha) .Rhaegar turns to his best friend, Jon Connington, to help him out in his time of need.





	when it all comes down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janie_tangerine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/gifts).

> After writing [another omega Targaryens AU fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19182376), I was possessed with the idea of this specific scenario, in which Rhaegar turns to his Jon Connington to meet his needs, not recognizing how complicated such a request is for his good friend who is not so secretly in love with him. 
> 
> It's been sitting unfinished for most of the summer for various reasons, but I decided I should finish it for Lavinia's birthday (though I'm a bit late for your timezone, I know!) on account of our shared love of JonC. 
> 
> So here's our boy getting some. I promise that my other fic idea for JonC is kinder and this one is at least smutty. 
> 
> **Based on my internet research of Valyrian Words I have used the following terms to replace the traditional alpha and omega:**
> 
> _ademaggon (to pay, to satisfy, to make good) in place of alpha_
> 
> _enkagon (to owe +inst: the thing owed; +acc: the person to whom it is owed) in place of omega._
> 
> Using Greek words felt not quite right for this setting, but I also like to think that it gave me an opportunity to tweak the implications of the dynamic between them, to better suit my vision.

“Stay,” Rhaegar reaches out his hand and places it on Jon’s forearm, as he moves to rise to depart with the others, and normally that would be precious to Jon but tonight it is something else.

He wonders if his silver haired prince knows just how difficult it is being around him right now. Arthur had pulled Jon aside earlier in the week and spoken to him in hushed tones about the royal line’s blood fever and how he must be patient with the prince. As though Jon has ever lacked patience when it comes to Rhaegar.

For Rhaegar, he would endure anything for as long as needed.

“It’s miserable,” Rhaegar tells him, stretching out across the settee, all long limbs and fluid angles, “being like this, reduced to a mess of longing and nerves.”

Jon wonders if Rhagar has any sort of inkling of the effect he has on him on a daily basis. He always tries to keep it from showing, of course, but sometimes it feels so loud.

“From what I understand, there’s only one way to treat the situation,” he hesitates, surprised for Rhaegar to bring it up, wondering why he asked him to stay.

“Only one way out,” Rhaegar sighs, standing up and pacing restlessly. “The last time was so horrible. They sent this woman, and I didn’t know her or her me, but… I couldn’t exactly refuse and when it was over I felt better but the whole thing was sordid, humiliating.”

Jon wants to reach out and comfort him, wants to make things better for him, but he can’t. He knows that, and he’s not so certain that right now he could find a way to touch Rhaegar that wouldn’t be a provocation, an invasion.

“You could always choose someone,” he offers, though the idea of it burns. “It’s not like anyone would refuse you, Rhaegar.”

Jon swallows hard, trying not to stare, not to notice the evidence of Rhaegar’s state, just as he hopes Rhaegar has not noticed his own, as he awkwardly recrosses his legs.

“It makes me feel so vulnerable, Jon. I can’t stand it. The idea of some stranger knowing that kind of thing about me… That’s what I’ve been thinking about, how exposing it is and I realized that what I need is someone I trust, someone who knows me and I don’t mind seeing me at my most exposed.”

“Oh…” Jon tries to say in a casual way, as if it doesn’t affect him.

It does, of course. He tries to battle the pain in his heart, the churning twist in his stomach. Rhaegar was never going to be his, but the idea of someone else getting to be that close to him strings nonetheless. 

He wonders who she is, this woman Rhaegar is yearning for, and why his prince seems so nervous about it. He must want Jon’s advice or reassurance, but Jon is in no way equipped to give advice and who could possibly think of rejecting Rhaegar, even when he wasn’t in the State… let alone now when he is.

“I want it to be you, Jon.” Rhaegar crouches down in front of him and puts his hand on Jon’s knee and Jon is certain that he’s misheard. “ Say you will. I know it would be okay if only it was you. I trust you.”

“Me?” he asks in shock and disbelief, unable to believe Rhaegar can really mean what it sounds like he means.

“Why not?” Rhaegar says as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re my best friend in the whole world and we’ve shared secrets no one else is privy to. This can just be another one of them.”

Jon’s heart swells at that, rivaling the rest of his reaction to this proposition for attention. Rhaegar trusts him, he values him, he isn’t just another subject to Rhaegar. That’s something that isn’t just the State talking, surely. Rhaegar wouldn’t lie to him.

“Are you sure that’s… what you really want?” 

He has to question it, even though he wants it to be true. He has to question it, even though Rhaegar sounds like he means it, even though Rhaegar is always so sincere, and serious, and earnest. Rhaegar wouldn’t tease him about this.

“Don’t go getting shy on me now, Jon. I know you’re as aware of me like this as I am you,” Rhaegar insists, using the hand he has on Jon’s knee to guide Jon’s legs apart and glancing down pointedly where he’s straining against his breeches. “ I don’t know why you’re being so squeamish…”

“I’m not being squeamish,” Jon snaps. “I just… don’t want this to be something that drives us apart.”

He couldn’t take that, couldn’t take not being able to look Rhaegar in the eye after tonight, couldn’t take sacrificing the trust they do have, for the luxury or holding his prince in his arms just this once.

“It couldn’t be,” Rhaegar promises, taking Jon’s hand in his own and raising it to his lips, kissing first the knuckles, like Jon is some maiden at court, and then turning it over and pressing his lips to the inside of Jon’s wrist. 

Jon is pretty sure he is about to catch fire, at the sensation and the way that Rhaegar is looking at him. 

“Please, Jon,” Rhaegar entreats, as if Jon could ever truly deny him, and then he takes Jon’s little finger in his mouth and sucks as he slowly pulls back.

Jon does his best to swallow the moan that wants to escape at the sensation, at Rhaegar’s words, at the way his purple eyes seem to stare straight into Jon’s soul. 

“I need you,” Rhaegar tells him, before repeating the process with the ring finger, and then the middle one. 

By the time he gets to the thumb, Jon can’t even think in words let alone say them.

He reaches out with the hand Rhaegar isn’t making love to, and wraps it around his prince’s narrow waist, drawing him onto Jon’s lap, unable to conceal the groan that escapes him as he feels Rhaegar, hard already, press against his own arousal.

He supposes that’s okay though, since Rhaegar makes this little mewling sound at the same moment, immediately grinding himself closer. Burying his face in Jon’s neck he whispers, “Gods, Jon you smell so good.”

Jon thinks that no one can possible smell better than Rhaegar does right now, sweet and musky at the same time. He takes the hand that Rhaegar has released and buries it in Rhaegar’s beautiful silver hair.

“I’m here,” he promises, “I’m here for whatever you need.”

Again he wonders, how much Rhaegar knows, whether he understands that Jon’s willingness is not just loyalty, is not just a reaction to Rhaeger’s blood fever. Probably better if he doesn’t, Jon knows.

But right now, it doesn’t matter; because Rhaegar is suddenly kissing him, open mouthed and breathless, as if he’s always wanted to, though Jon knows better.

“Jon…” he moans, circling his hips over Jon’s lap. “It’s like I’m on fire.”

There’s sweat beaded on Rhaegar’s upper lip and forehead. Jon moves his hands to the front of Rhaegar’s shirt, unlacing it and running his hands over his chest underneath. 

Rhaeger raises his arms up and Jon pulls the shirt over his head, 

It’s not like Jon has never seen him undressed before. They’ve frequently helped one another out of their armor, but this is different. This time he’s allowed to stare, to linger, to touch. He caresses the Rhaegar’s broad shoulders and his smooth chest and flat belly. He encircles that narrow waist. 

He can hardly believe it, can hardly believe that this is real and he’s not going to wake any moment now, sweaty and breathless and desperately hard, the crushing knowledge that it would never actually happen descending once more upon him.

He watches a drop of sweat roll down Rhaegar’s neck and can’t resist licking that same path, tasting the salt on Rhaegar’s skin.

“That feels good,” Rhaegar groans, rocking impatiently against Jon in such a way as to rub their cocks against one another through their breeches.

So Jon licks the same spot on the other side of Rhaegar’s neck, garnering a similar reaction, which encourages him to keep going, seeking out sensitive spots. He wants to remember this moment forever: Rhaegar warm and willing against him, the taste of his skin, the sounds he makes. 

It will be over too soon. His prince **needs**, and Jon has never been able to deny him. 

“Come let’s go to my bed,” Rhaeger urges, as if in reaction to Jon’s thought, pulling away to stand.

Jon pushes himself up to follow. As they reach the foot of Rhaegar’s bed and the prince turns back around to face him, Jon notices he is shaking.

“What’s wrong?” he utters in concern. “If you’ve changed your mind-”

“I need you closer,” Rhaegar tells him with a shudder, reaching out and drawing Jon against him. “I need relief.”

“I’m here,” he once again promises. “Just tell me and I will take care of you to the best of my ability.”

He drops down in front of Rhaegar, working off Rhaegar’s boots and socks before moving his hands to unlace his breeches.

Rhaegar’s cock is leaking as it springs free and Jon almost gives in to the urge to take him in his mouth right then with his pants still around his legs, but Rhaegar deserves better than that. So Jon finishes undressing him, pressing eager kisses to Rhaegar’s lean muscled legs in the meantime.

“Lie back on the bed,” he urges. “I’ll be right behind you.”

He takes off his own boots and socks, tossing his shirt aside as well. A quick glance at Rhaegar: perfect and tantalizing as he sprawls out on the bed, his silver hair fanning around his face like a halo or a crown, makes Jon quickly shed his breeches and smallclothes, impatient to join him.

“Hurry,” Rhaegar urges, like something out of one of Jon’s dreams. Jon knows it’s the State talking, not anything else, but he can’t help being affected by it anyway.

Jon’s hands run up Rhaegar’s thighs as he settles himself between them. 

“I’m back,” he murmurs, as he presses his face into the tangle of silver hair, breathing Rhaegar in deeply, “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Rhaegar seems reassured by that, and Jon’s hands on him, relaxing more against the bed. He told Jon he trusts him and Jon believes that is true, whatever else is an illusion of the fever in his blood.

He kisses softly: inside each of Rhaegar’s thighs, next to the base of his cock, over his hip bones. Rhaegar squirms under him, still leaking with need, and Jon cannot bring himself to further tease. 

“Jon…” He’s rewarded with the sound of absolute delight in Rhaegar’s voice as he licks his way up the underside of his cock from the base to the tip, tasting the fluid pooling there.

He’s thankful now, for the (never blond enough) whores he’s learned some measure of skill from, though every time he leaves them ashamed and hating himself for his weakness. But all that self loathing is worth it now, as he sinks his mouth down around Rhaegar’s cock and sucks him off, not with the sloppy first attempt of a boy, but as a man who knows how to give his prince the pleasure he deserves.

It doesn’t take long for Rhaegar to peak, the slow dribble of arousal giving way to a flood of release, as Jon swallows him down with firm determination not to let his love witness him gagging, not to let anything distract from the relief he aims to give. 

Rhaegar stops shaking. He doesn’t soften in Jon’s mouth though, not in the _enkagon_ state, the blood fever, the curse of his line. No. Only the satisfaction of an _ademmagon_, receiving the seed of someone like Jon into his body, can break Rhaegar’s fever and give him respite from the need he is laboring under right now. Jon has even heard that sometimes it takes more than one try. 

Jon is more than willing to keep going. Rhaegar does seem to feel some respite from his first orgasm at least, though. His movements are more leisurely now, like that of a cat enjoying the sunlight rather than borne of restless discomfort.

“Good gods…” Rhaegar groans reaching down and brushing Jon’s hair from his face, “you’ve so good at this, Jon. So magnificent.”

“I promised to take care of you,” Jon stares up into his prince’s eyes, moving his hand to Rhaegar’s cock as he lowers his lips to his balls. 

“I knew you would,” Rhaegar sighs. “I knew you could.”

And for a moment it is alright that this means nothing to Rhaegar other than that, that he can never love Jon the way Jon loves him. He guides Rhaegar’s legs up from the bed, knees pressing to his chest as Jon massages his thighs.

Rhaegar goes willingly. When Jon moves his mouth further down, licking his way around Rhaegar’s exposed asshole, Rhaegar moans his name so Jon does it again, teasing just beyond the edge.

“I’m going to put my tongue inside you now,” he informs Rhaegar, who pulls his own knees up a bit more to give him better access.

This, he’s really only been on the receiving end of, but from Rhaegar’s response he’s managing well enough. 

“Jonnn…” Rhaegar groans, reaching down to run his fingers into Jon’s hair, and Jon thinks that no sound has ever been sweeter than the way Rhaegar just uttered his name. 

He keeps one of his hands wrapped around Rhaegar’s cock, slowly moving his grip up and back down his length as he fucks him with his tongue. All of Rhaegar’s earlier restless tension has vanished, as he seems completely to have relinquished himself to the State and his trust in Jon.

There’s a part of him that whispers just how much Rhaegar is enjoying him, that perhaps this prince’s body knows things his mind does not, that perhaps- No. He cuts himself off there, even in his own thoughts. He may be proving himself to his prince as worthy in this, but that doesn’t mean what his foolish stubborn heart wants it to.

It’s enough, as Jon moves his second hand to fondle Rhaegar’s balls and he comes messily all over his own belly. Jon moves to clean Rhaegar’s release from his skin, following the streaks of seed with his tongue.

“I need you,” Rhaegar tells Jon, taking Jon’s face in his hands and turning it in the direction of his own.

Jon has gotten himself off with his own hands and imagining Rhaegar saying such a thing too many times to count. Of course in Jon’s fantasies, Rhaegar doesn’t turn away once his blood cools, as he will in reality. It doesn’t matter though, not as Rhaegar reaches backwards to fumble with something on the nightstand, before pressing a vial of oil into Jon’s hands.

“Rhaegar,” he can’t resist murmuring his prince’s name, as he sits up, repositioning himself kneeling between Rhaegar’s legs. He uncorks the vial, back in familiar territory and yet how can it be? It’s Rhaegar laid out before him, naked and trusting. 

He takes his time, working one oiled finger in at a time, leaning forward and kissing Rhaegar on the mouth as he stretches him open with the third. 

Finally, he breaks the kiss, straightening back up and taking in the sight of Rhaegar as Jon moves his hands to hold Rhaegar in place as he presses his cock to Rhaegar’s opening and then slowly sinks down onto him, watching his prince’s face all the while.

Rhaegar reacts to try to push up into the contact more quickly, but Jon has him held fast. It is not that he doesn’t feel the temptation to plunge in all at once, to fuck him, but he wants this to last, and he wants to be worthy of this trust.

“Gods, that’s… damn,” Rhaegar rambles disconnectedly as Jon buries himself inside. Usually so eloquent and elegant in speech, he seems temporarily stripped of coherency. 

_Good_, Jon can’t help thinking, _I’ll make him feel so good he won’t even remember there are other options._

“Is that what you needed?” he can’t help urging, as he finds himself buried in Rhaegar to the hilt, moving one hand from Rhaegar’s leg to caress his cock, thumb gathering moisture from where it is leaking at the tip and then moving that to his lips to taste him again. “My sweet, sweet, dear prince.”

“Jonnn,” Rhaegar moans, “Jon!”

Jon moves the hand back to Rhaegar’s cock, keeping his movements as slow and deep as he can. No fantasy could ever live up to the reality of Rhaegar sprawled under him, crying out his name. He may live to be an old man, but nothing will ever compare to this moment.

“I’m here,” he murmurs. “I’m always here for you.”

It’s not everything he years to say, but if Rhaegar wants to know the truth of what he means, surely the look in Jon’s eyes must betray him as he stares down into Rhaegar’s purple ones. Rhaegar holds his gaze and Jon imagines telling him that he loves him, that he is in love with him.

“Fuck…” Rhaegar gasps, a shocking exclamation from the usually clean spoken prince. “Yes, Jon. I knew you’d know. I knew you’d be able to make it feel right. Yessss…”

The whores will never be enough again, if they ever really were.


End file.
